


That's What You Say When You're Falling Down

by colberry



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Closet Sex, M/M, but really let's pretend the closet can seat two men comfortably, hide and seek is a perfect alibi, interrupted smut, the closet is a metaphor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colberry/pseuds/colberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If we had more time, I'd fuck you right here.  I'd ram us into this damn wall and let the whole world know it."</p>
<p>AKA:  Naughty Times in Convenient Closets</p>
            </blockquote>





	That's What You Say When You're Falling Down

“Fuck!”

His head slammed against the wall, the shooting stars exploding behind his eyes somehow paling in contrast to the mess of glitter, blonde and plush that pressed against his entire frame.  He squirmed as the other panted hot breaths upon his neck, lips ghosting across the gooseflesh greedily.  _Jesus._  

Grabbing a fistful of that honey-laced hair, Aoi could feel his back arc in an impossible inversion as Uruha darted an agile tongue across his collarbone.  His knee edged in between those sinewy legs in an attempt to gain some kind of upperhand, but was interrupted with the younger’s teeth nipping at his lip.   
  
 _Fuck, fuck --_  

The dark closet of the live venue seemed to shake, tremble even, with each suck of Uruha’s maw against his own.  Gently taking the flesh with his enamels, the fellow guitarist lapped eagerly at Aoi’s full mouth, gliding sporadically along the swirl of his piercing.  Aoi felt a low growl rumble in his chest before the hand that encased itself in Uruha’s hair violently tugged upwards.  The sense of cold that came as fresh air hit each wet declaration was quickly placated as he plunged his mouth against the taller musician.  It was almost horrible in its pleasure – all biting, bruising, clashing anger.  Aoi could feel the fickle rage that always swam through his bones (despite its recent latency) being shoved into Uruha’s awaiting gasps.  
  
He wanted struggle, suffocation --  

It was too musty, too humid in the small enclosure to be breathing so heavily.  But Aoi pressed onward, tongue sweeping the underside of the other’s before breaking contact.  And there was a fleeting moment, where eyes of ebony and mahogany connected.  It was all cinders and simmering zephyrs in such an instant – and Uruha smirked. 

With the grace of divine quality, the blonde flopped to his knees, hand reaching up brashly to stroke the pulsating bulge of Aoi’s black cargos.  Long fingers caressed achingly slow, Aoi biting his lip to fight back the urge to buck helplessly beneath the warm palm.  Instead, he whispered fiercely, “ _Fuck._ ”  Another stroke.  “You better be worth this fucking wait –“  His ardent words faltered as Uruha brought his lips to his almost painful arousal, gently pressing into the swell in a gesture far too intimate for a lustful venture in a supply closet. 

Aoi couldn’t stop the breathy whimper that slid from his throat.  His fingers quickly threaded themselves in the gilded locks beneath him, mussing up the intricate style reserved for the live in fifteen minutes.  Couldn’t say he cared.  Couldn’t say he even noticed with Uruha’s tongue now peeking out of that damn, lush mouth of his.  His head automatically thudded against the wall, mouth open and eyes closed.  Silent screams wracked his lithe body for _more, now, now._   The guitarist’s hold upon Uruha’s mane tightened and the tempting notion to thrust made him clench his teeth tight.  Enamels splintered and he could feel a crimson tear fall from his metal adornment.

Uruha merely smiled as he drew lazy patterns of _want_ and _crimson skies_ across his friend’s erection.  His hand unconsciously gripped at the underside of Aoi’s thigh, attempting to right himself as he could feel each throb of desire slide across his tongue.  A shaky breath escaped him and Aoi almost slammed the lead guitarist’s head into his crotch as the mouthfuls of air tantalized his self-control, “ _Dammit, Uruha!”_  

The blonde chuckled while reaching for Aoi’s zipper with his free hand, “Sorry, sorry.  I’ll just stop then –“  He ceased all movement, zipper abandoned, and Aoi (gently) kneed him in the face.

“ _Fucker!_   Just do it!”

Uruha lightly stroked the back of Aoi’s thigh, slowly traveling towards the wonderful dip of his rear, before tilting his nimble fingers to brush dangerously close to the elder man’s second heartbeat, “And just what do you want me to do, Aoi-kun?” 

Aoi turned his head to the side of the wall, cheek plastered against the cool wood, nails now digging with fervor to Uruha’s scalp.  The lone bulb that showered them with dim promises flickered softly. 

The man upon his knees grinned sardonically, mirth sparking in his equally lustful eyes, “I’m not a mind-reader, Aoi-kun.”

The elder remained resolutely silent, if not for the occasional grunts that accompanied the mouth that was still somewhat pressed to his erection.  Each sentence left a wondrous melody dancing across his eyes.  The lips that loved to laugh, smile and drink heavily into moonless nights touching so delicately, so smoothly – Aoi licked his lips as his control began to slip.

“If we had more time, I’d fuck you right here.  I’d ram us into this damn wall and let the whole world know it.”  Uruha paused, eyes lazily regarding him and dragged his mouth upwards, bottom lip sagging along,  “But, only if you asked nicely, of course.”  
  
Aoi turned his face from the wall and peered down at the warm heap beneath him.  He watched as Uruha’s eyes slowly met his, the glaze of too many missed chances and bruised moments betaking the amber irises.  The younger regarded him calmly, though the quivering hand clasping his thigh gave away such nonchalance.  The image of the dark pink that smeared the blonde’s cheeks, both completely at mercy and in control upon his knees flitted precariously up to Aoi’s yearn-clouded mind. 

He then felt the other swallow, Adam’s apple barely touching his arousal, but there all the same.  Aoi hissed and gave a soft thrust as to not knock off the other man’s jaw, “For the love of _God_ , keep talking.”

A snort resounded, though half-hearted as his own need peaked, “And what would you like me to talk about?”  Uruha forcibly keeps a low whine from slathering his words.  His arms are shaking by now, his own arousal throbbing at just the promise of waistband friction.  He keeps his gaze steady.

“ _Anything._ ”

Uruha bites his lip to keep a grin from blossoming onto his face, “Easy enough.”

Eyes fluttering shut, each syllable wracks him relentlessly as Uruha grants his request.  “Who knew such a laconic son of a bitch would want to have a little chit chat while screwing around in a closet.”

Aoi would have loved to have his words come out with biting acidity, but they’re soft with each rhythm of pleasure, “Shut .. up.  Pot.. kettle, black.”  He needs to gasp for air.  He needs to rip his pounding heart out of his chest.  He needs to smother himself with _Uruha_ until he can’t remember those petulant _‘why’s and how come’s._   

Uruha huffs, “I only talk when I have something important to say.”

The rhythm guitarist lets out another painfully controlled thrust once again, “ _Nngh_.. And--this is important right now?”

Uruha can’t help but sigh helplessly as Aoi’s fingers magically drag through his aureate locks, face turning to the side of the other’s heat with his eyes closed.  He doesn’t mean for his next words to be laced with as much sincerity as they are, “Well, yeah.”

Aoi buries a second hand in Uruha’s silk-ridden hair; he’s so damn _close_ and the bastard didn’t even have to _do_ anything!  He breathes in sharply, teeth bared, “And why’s that?”

Fingers are roving all across his head, some dipping down to stroke his forehead unknowingly and the blonde just may burst from the mere, willing contact.  His knees are sore, and he trembles like a fucking virgin because Aoi doesn’t realize what he _does._ Those hips that gyrate in little rolls for him, the full, rosy lips that exhale in anticipation, the milk-bone of his creamy skin peeking from in between his tight shirt and pants, dammit – even the way his piercing glints in the poor lighting makes him wish they didn’t have fucking time limits.  He growls, forcing out a reply that makes even his cool countenance shudder.

“It’s _you_.”

And despite the raw instinct in his bones to _fuck and thrust and consume_ , Uruha lightly kisses this pulsating heat he has come to know. 

His head is suddenly tugged up and he locks eyes with the most beautiful creature he has even seen – ebony locks tousled in halos of dark angels, brow furrowed.  And he knows he’s asked for it as those eyelids come to half-mast and those lips seem to beckon ‘ _come hither before I make you’_.  And he does.   
  
His hand swiftly comes to rest on Aoi’s hipbone as he readies himself to unzip and rip off those damn cargo pants with his impatient teeth and throw caution into the wind, the speakers, the _everything_ and –

“I SWEAR TO GOD – HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE YOU GUYS TO FIND A FUCKING _BROOM_ _?!”_

And no one knows which is faster – the speed of which the door flies open or the rapidity of the two occupants to dislodge.  The fuming presence of Reita, eyes glaring and hands fisted, breaks whatever sultry emotion either of them had prowling in their eyes.  They can both see the curious glances of Kai and Ruki poking behind the bursting Vesuvius that is the bassist.  It’s too incriminating. 

There’s a short silence.  Reita raises an eyebrow impatiently, Uruha gapes like an air-borne fish and Aoi does the only thing that comes to mind.

“…So, this means we _weren’t_ playing hide-and-seek?”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ: Janurary 3rd, 2010


End file.
